The time was about two o'clock in the morning. I knew I should not have left my girlfriend's place at such an unholy hour, but I had to. A number of reasons prompted the inauspicious decision.

            One, I had a lecture fixed for eight o'clock the following morning. Two, I have this phobia for sleeping overnight in a woman's bed. The third was this premonition, which started nagging me a couple of days ago: a doppelganger might appear to me. Fable has it that it cherishes the odor of semen. Excuse me, when else is sperm likely to sprout than when you sleep in your girlfriend's bed?

            So, when I considered the implications of the three reasons, I decided to obey the dictates of my intuition which, in the last three months or thereabout, had risen to the status of precise clairvoyance.

            My journey home was uneventful until I stumbled on a group of policemen. They had mounted a roadblock at a roundabout. I was sure the blockade was illegal because the group was so concealed, that I nearly walked through it before a voice ordered me to halt. I knew instantly I was in trouble.

            Why? I had thought the policemen would not be concerned with a lonely figure quietly walking towards his home when the traffic was very busy with heavy lorries loaded with vegetables and other farm products. I had lived in the vicinity long enough to be familiar with the drivers and the hundreds of market women who traveled at night to catch the early customers the following day.

            "Come here," the voice cut into my thought. Instantly, I turned round and walked towards the group.

            "Where are you from at this hour of the day?" the leader of the bereted group, an Assistant Superintendent of Police, boomed.

            I should have lied to the lot in consonance with the general trend of attitude in the locality, but because I was stupidly naïve, I told them the truth. The reaction was ambivalent. But, when in response to a question from a fat mass of flesh sporting three stripes on his shoulder, I revealed that my girlfriend was also one of my students, all hell was let loose.

            "Oh God, how could you?" the ASP fumed with pure ire.

            "Oga, that girl fit be your daughter," a beanpole contributed. The conjecture inflamed the ASP's aversion. "Kneel down," he barked, fingering the butt of a wicked-looking pistol strapped to his waist.

            Instantly, I dropped on my knees and pacified the ASP further by raising up my two arms. When I remembered by primary school days, I closed my two eyes.

            "Oga, make we go lock this boy up for station," the striped mass suggested.
            This is an insult, my mind screamed. Me a boy? No you are not a boy. A full-blooded man you are. I fingered my stiff, bushy moustache to confirm my mind's observation.

            "Where is your identification?" the ASP barked.

            My right hand dropped to my side pocket. It rummaged it. No ID card. Then my fingers snaked into my back pocket. No identification paper. I checked the front pockets. The card was not there. I was sweating in spite of the clement weather. Then, I looked inside my skullcap; it was empty. To gain more moments of respite, I removed my socks and shook them; the card was not there. By then, I was drenched in hot sweat. it was then I remembered that I had left the card with my pocket diary on my inamorata's reading table.

            "Why you no check inside your pants, the card fit dey there," the most junior of the officers taunted. I looked at him, forlorn.

            "Well," the ASP sighed.

            "I am truly what I am telling you," I moaned.

            "Where is the proof?" three stripes barked.

            "It is at home," I lied confidently. Another irrational goof.

            "Where is home?" the ASP wanted to know. A more sensible moron would have mentioned a far place, but I pointed to my actual home, a stone throw from the roadblock.

            "Sergeant," the ASP called three stripes.

            "Follow him to his house. Let him bring his identification; I want to see it," he ordered.

            My heart did a multiple somersault after which it jerked spasmodically as fresh, hot sweat spewed out of my pores. I should have corrected the error there and then if I had any modicum of the most common of all gifts - common sense - but not in my case. You should have been aware of the quality of my dimwittedness by now. So, like a sheep being led to the slaughterhouse, I followed three stripes. We had taken a few steps when he reminded me that I should be the one leading the way. I quickened my steps and overtook him.

            "You bibliophiles should understand and respect the dynamism of social etiquette," three stripes intoned. I nearly stopped to ask him where he got such informed knowledge. Coming from a member of his professional calling, the homily sounded ethereal. I was still considering voicing my reaction or not when he said, "you are supposed to be the keys to the future, not nocturnal animals."

            I didn't quite hear him beyond "future." His reference to "key" had jolted my reasoning, sending my hand into my pocket. It touched the bunch of keys. Quietly, slowly, carefully, I removed my handkerchief from my breast pocket. Needlessly, I cleaned my mouth with it and transferred it to my pocket. I draped it over the bunch of keys, wrapping the handkerchief tightly over the collection so that the keys would not rattle. As we mounted the steps that led to my door, I "missed" my steps and slumped exaggeratedly towards a public wastebasket placed at a corner. Three stripes was beside me in a flash, hoping to prevent me from falling. However, before he could reach me, I had already "fallen," in the process, I dropped the small bundle in the wastebasket, smiling, I thanked him profusely for his concern.

            "You should be mindful of the steps," he warned.

            "Oh, thank you," I said and smiled again. We soon got to my door.

            "Open it," three stripes ordered.

            I made an elaborate ceremony searching my pockets. First it was the breast pocket. Then the back ones.

            "Where is your key?"

            I frowned. "Well, I am not sure where I put it," I replied. 

            "Think very well," he advised. "Did you give it to somebody?"

            "Oh, I now remember. I left it at my girlfriend's."

            "Okay, let's go to Oga," he said slapping his thigh with his baton. This time he led the way. I followed him docilely.

            "Is that so?" the ASP concluded reflexively when three stripes had reported to him.

            "You are not only a social deviant who does not care two hoots about the safety of his life whether precious or not, you are also a brazen liar. I do not believe the keys are at your whore's house but I'll grant you the benefit. Christ himself said he did not come into the world because of the righteous but because of shameless sinners like you." He paused to wipe his mouth. "It passed in my mind to order your detention for wandering." My stomach churned. Then, it rumbled violently. Incarceration is one experience my intestines detest.

            "That'll be okay sir. At least that will teach him and his likes not to night crawl or victimize the poor students in their care," three stripes interrupted.

            The ASP looked at him thoughtfully, "Go to your duty post," he said solemnly. Three stripes hesitated briefly. Then, he saluted and went to join his colleagues who had begun to spread among the lorries and discuss with the drivers or so I thought. The ASP held my arm and dragged me away from the noise issuing from the encounter between the policemen and the drivers.

            The pensive look on his face unnerved me. "I won't detain you because it is said in the Bible." This time I lurched. A police officer preaching the Bible. He cut into my thought. ".in John 3 verse 16, God actually said he had given his only begotten Son to the world. Those who believe in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. Now, if God cherishes Christ as exemplified in that scriptural injunction, we should all understand that whatever Christ prescribes is binding on all of us. Adultery, fornication, lust, greed, bribery and so on are definitely not among what Christ asked us to practice. How do you want Christ to judge you on the day of resurrection? On the day everyone will give account of his stewardship?" the ASP poked my chest with a stubby finger. I looked on demurely.

            "Again, do you think parents would be happy if they know that you have been defiling their daughters? You are supposed to be their guardian. You are undoubtedly their in loco parentis. Must you in addition to that singular responsibility sleep with them? Have you ever seen a father going to bed with his daughters? Surely, if you do not depart from these shameful acts, hell-fire awaits you," the ASP asseverated calmly.

            For the first time in my thirty-five years or so of existence, I was visibly disturbed. I was remorseful. "I am sorry," I whispered.